


5-Point Guide On How To Ruin A Holiday

by chekov



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Beaches, Big Steve, Birthday, Holidays, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Modern Era, Phone Calls & Telephones
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-06
Updated: 2018-07-06
Packaged: 2019-06-05 18:38:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15176858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chekov/pseuds/chekov
Summary: Steve ditches his own birthday holiday for an 'emergency' but promises to make up for it. Bucky is not impressed—until he is.





	5-Point Guide On How To Ruin A Holiday

**Author's Note:**

> A little late, but happy 100th steebie!!! Nothing but spending time with the people u love most on this day, big man ♥
> 
> hmu at @mutanitys on twitter and tumblr!

Bucky should have known not to expect a normal holiday out of this trip.

‘Normal’ has never been an option for them, anyway.

 

* * *

 

**+1 Lose fight against stubborn boyfriend**

**Points: 1**

 

Steve looks up and immediately drops the pair of khakis he’s just unfolding back into his currently messy suitcase with a long, exasperated sigh like it’s being squeezed out of him. Like Bucky is being intentionally difficult, which he definitely isn’t—at least not _yet_ , he thinks—and it’s just about to drive Bucky mad.

“What, Rogers, what?” scowls Bucky, growling at the sheets of their bed, unfortunately still in its pristine condition. Shame that they’ve spent so much on this nice hotel, really. “Stop looking at me like I’m a seven year-old throwing a tantrum.”

Bucky realises the irony in this and his current position—arms crossed across his chest, pouting, perched at the edge of their very soft, very _unused_ bed—but doesn’t react to the raised eyebrow Steve gives him.

“Gee, Buck, right now you’re not exactly proving yourself to be a better man.”

“Well maybe _right now_ I don’t _want_ to be better." _I don’t even want to be good._ _Right now, I just want you_ , is what he’s tempted to spit out, but he’s also trying to salvage what dignity remains in this argument so he bites these last bits back.

“Come on,” Steve says with another sigh, this time considerably smaller and more like he’s also suffering a little, less like he’s trying to take the piss out of Bucky. “You know I want to stay, and that I hate this even more than you do—“

“Bullshit, if I hate this half as much as I do now, I would turn off my phone in a heartbeat.”

“It’s not that easy, Buck, you know that. This isn’t just about me; it’s an _emergency_. Would they call me from all the way home if it wasn’t one?” Steve throws him a piercing look from over the top of his suitcase still splayed open on their bed. “We can always pick up where we left off, right? I’ll just fly back home, stay for a couple of days, and I’ll be here before you even realise I was gone.”

Now that last part is pure crap because even before Steve has stepped out of the hotel room, Bucky already misses him, misses the feel of skin on skin under fluffy covers and the way Steve’s barely-there stubble tickles the skin on his neck in the morning. Bucky growls at the sheets, a million and one responses burning at the tip of his tongue. Despite how childish it is, he wants to lament about how hard it’s been for Steve to take even a couple of days off work to relax, let alone a week-long one one so they can fly out to the Caribbean like this, just the two of them, together, meaning to unwind and let loose after innumerable days spent working hard. While Bucky’s hitched to a normal corporate job—something you’d expect from a mid-30s man with little talent outside of his frankly useless knife-wielding skills—of course Steve just _has_ to be the sole proprietor of his own small, endearing, but very successful, art school whose day-to-day functions are even needier than Bucky is during their biweekly Star Trek marathons.

Perhaps this makes him a horrible, nasty human being, but sometimes Bucky wishes Steve was engaged in a line of work that doesn’t ask so much of _him_ that Bucky only gets the bits and scraps left behind.

So lost in his thoughts, Bucky doesn’t register Steve settling beside him until he’s being shoved gently, a hand resting on his thigh as if pleading for him to look up. “Hey, Buck?”

He looks up realises it’s a mistake because if Bucky's never been immune to Steve’s eyes then he sure as hell isn’t strong against it now. There’s apology in those baby blue eyes, guilt but also steadfast resolution, unshakeable and firm, that Bucky is so in love with he almost forgives him right there and then.

“Look I—I’m really, really sorry about it. I wish they gave me a head’s up just a little bit earlier—“

“Literally twelve hours ago would be nice—“

“ _Just a bit._ Earlier. So we would’ve just pushed everything back a little instead of having this. Awkward flying back and forth. But heck, it’s Wanda and Peter's first time handling the place alone and... this emergency... I can’t let them do everything by themselves. You understand, right?” Steve is scanning his face, Bucky can feel it, so he tries to maintain the pout-slash-scowl as staunchly as he can while convincing himself that Steve is being patronising, treating Bucky like he’s in need of pacification. But eventually he feels like a selfish asshole for doing it, so he drops the facade and shakes his head.

Plus, Steve is never condescending. He just genuinely cares, sometimes a little too much.

Bucky can’t help it—he leans forwards slowly, waiting until Steve hurriedly scoots closer on the bed to rest his head in the crook of Steve’s neck. He gives a low whine, and one of Steve’s hands come up to rub him across the back. “I’m real, sorry Buck.”

“I know.”

“There’s nothing I can do."

“Yeah. I know.”

Steve brings up his hand to cup the back of Bucky’s neck. “I’ll be back in a couple of days—"

“Don’t worry ‘bout it, take your time. Until it’s finished, or whatever. Just your own birthday you’re ruining, so it’s okay.”

It only makes Steve frown. “I know it’s not.”

Bucky rolls his eyes. “Okay, Mr. Know-It-All. What next, wanna read my mind too? Predict the future? Go ahead. Try it.”

“No need to get snappy with me,” chides Steve, but his tone is fondly exasperated. He leans in and drops a kiss on Bucky’s lips, long and lingering that Bucky almost forgets why they’re fighting in the first place. “You know I’m not that big on birthdays anyway, Buck, I just want to spend time with _you_. I love you.”

“Same,” mutters Bucky as he tangles the fingers of his right hand in Steve’s hair, scratching his scalp a little like he knows Steve likes. “I know you’re lying about the birthday thing and you’re secretly desperate to get the birthday lay of your life.”

Steve sputters out a laugh. “Okay, just for that last one, I’ll make sure I make it back in time.”

“I’ll miss you.”

"It’ll only be two days!”

“or forty-eight hours. ’S a matter of perspective,” Bucky breathes onto Steve’s lips, opening up his mouth—but before the kiss can get any more heated Steve stands up and pads back to his suitcase again, leaving Bucky to contort his facial muscles into one of apathy and as far away from a petulant seven-year-old as he can manage.

Sometimes life sucks, but he knows when to be the bigger man. “Safe flight, hm?”

“Don’t have control over that,” replies Steve, who laughs at the face Bucky subsequently pulls. “I’m just kiddin’. I told you—I’ll be back before you know it."

 

* * *

 

 

 **+1 Think about said boyfriend** **_a lot_**

**Points: 2**

 

Bucky is terribly, excruciatingly, agonisingly _bored_.

It’s stupid, this wave of boredom that hits him. It’s not like Bucky has never done anything without Steve before—like hell he’d let his entire world revolve around his workaholic boyfriend. That’s not the case at all.

He does many things without Steve Rogers.

Before they met each other, Bucky had been working in a start-up that went on stupidly dangerous company ‘excursions', trying out every extreme sports one can possibly imagine. Of course they were optional, but Bucky wasn’t the best at saying ‘no’ to wild-sounding, adrenaline-pumping opportunities. Back then it had worried his mother a lot—and looking back, considering what happened after that one rock climbing incident that had left his arm a mess, Bucky should have probably listened to her a more.

(He was extremely lucky to have only escaped with a gnarled mess of scars on his left shoulder and a near-useless left hand, the doctor had said, so luck isn’t something Bucky takes lightly. It’s why he’d been so resistant to Steve when he’d walked into his life, when Bucky was in the depths of a pit he couldn’t shake himself off.)

But Bucky had spent hours and hours poring over an itinerary _just_ for this trip and, really, _parasailing_ just wouldn’t be the same if your dumb and hot boyfriend is there to laugh at you while you try your best to hold in your fear of heights. It was supposed to be the whole point of Bucky doing it, anyway—Steve’s always mentioned conquering your fears or whatever.

Bucky bites on the straw of the cocktail he’d just ordered from the resort bar and glares at the sun. Dammit, even when he’s trying to do things for himself, he’s _still_ thinking about Steve.

 

 

* * *

 

 

**(-1 Think about falling in love with boyfriend**

**Points: 1)**

 

(They met at Steve’s restaurant, down the road from the hospital where Bucky used to receive treatment. He liked Steve because Steve didn’t ask about his arm two sentences into their conversation, like most people do when they try to be polite but still spectacularly fail. Bucky thought that half the time people approached him because they were curious about his arm, not because they actually wanted a conversation, but the other half of the time people were just too spooked to even ask. It worked to his advantage, really; whenever he wanted to be left alone all day all he had to really do was ditch his hoodie behind pull on a short-sleeved t-shirt. It had at _least_ a fifty percent success rate.

Steve was part of the fifty percent that failed.

It was almost amusing to watch Steve fumbling through the handful of pick-up lines he knew, devastatingly handsome in his dumb apron with a stupid nervous smile on his face that made something stir in Bucky that hadn’t stirred in a long, long time. It was like the arm wasn’t there—Steve had only given it a cursory glance as he walked over to take Bucky’s order, introducing himself as the head chef of the humble establishment, and from then on it had been stealing shy glances from across the room or looking into Bucky’s eyes like he couldn’t get enough of the blue (as if Steve’s blue weren’t equally, or even more, gorgeous, those baby blues that made Bucky want to pull him into his lap).

It took Bucky several trips over to the restaurant and a mention of his treatment nearly ending for Steve to finally, _finally_ , find the courage to invite him for dinner. And if Bucky put out after the first date—well, after waiting that long, who could blame him?)

 

 

* * *

 

 

**+1 Call Sam**

**Points: 2**

 

Sam isn’t one for preamble in phone conversations.

“Now, what the hell you doin’ on the phone with me for, man! Shouldn’t you be busy right now? You know—“ Sam drops his voice to an imperceptible volume. “Having some _fun_?”

“Didn’t Steve tell you? There’s an emergency at the school that needs taking care of.”

“Uh-oh.” Bucky can hear the eyebrow raise from across the line. Sam is both Steve’s and Bucky’s best friend, but he’s the best confidant they can ask for and knows when one issue should never be brought up with the other. “You just got ditched, didn’t you?”

“For a _work emergency_ ,” Bucky complains. “What kind of emergency would a _school_  have that he can’t handle it from here? Technology is advanced _for a reason_.”

“I don’t know, man, he _is_ running the whole place practically by himself, from the admin stuff to the teaching bits.”

“Why couldn’t he have asked Peter or Wanda to take the risk? They’re hired for a reason,” grumbles Bucky, before tapering off into silence as he bites his lips. “You… Do you think he’s hating this whole holiday thing?”

“Oh, yeah, of course that’s the logical conclusion. Not like he nearly pissed himself in excitement when you mentioned booking those tickets just for the two of you.” Sam’s sarcasm was palpable even from a thousand miles away.

Bucky picks at the comforter, pouting. “You know how much of a workaholic he is.”

“Yeah, and it’s like you don’t know how crazy he is about you,” Sam sighs. “Look, you shouldn’t overthink it. He’ll be back the day after tomorrow anyway—so suck it up and go learn how to surf, or something.”

“The waves here aren’t for surfing.”

“And that’s supposed to be my problem, how?”

Bucky throws his head back and laughs, hearing the faint chuckle over the receiver. “Yeah. You’re right. Hey, thanks as always, Sam.”

“Whatever. Just make sure you get me some nice beach hats when you come back. The sun here’s killin’ me and all they’ve got around is baseball caps.”

 

 

* * *

 

**+1 Call boyfriend**

**Points: 3**

 

“Bucky?”

“Hey.” Bucky tries hard to sound casual, nonchalant, definitely not like he’s spent every waking hour missing Steve, and then subconsciously seeking out for him each minute he’s asleep.

He’s not sure it’s working though, because Steve’s reply over the line is all soft when he says, “Hey—what’s wrong?”

There’s got to be a better way to show emotions but at the moment Bucky isn’t doing it. He tries to smile, hoping it’d come across even though Steve can’t see him. “Nothing. Something’s got to be the matter when your boyfriend wants to call you?”

Steve’s laugh is fond. “Missing me that much, huh?”

“Like crazy,” Bucky sighs honestly, and maybe that’s not the right thing to say because he hears a lot of rustling, like Steve’s getting up and frowning at the wall with his phone cradled on his shoulder.

“God, Buck, I’m—I’m really sorry. Do you want me to go back?”

“I thought the emergency would take you a while to sort out.”

“This is an emergency, too.”

Bucky snorts, rubbing a hand over his face. “Don’t be stupid, it isn’t. I’m fine, I just needed—just had to hear your voice for a bit.”

“You sure?” Bucky nods, and it should be a little unnerving that Steve seems to understand because he can’t see Bucky’s nod or his smile. “Only if you’re sure. But if you need anything—anything at all, Buck, you just say the word.”

“Jesus, you need to relax, Mister,” teases Bucky, even though he’s the only feeling short of breath at the moment from all the conflicting thoughts in his head. “It’s just two days.”

“It’s all a matter of perspective.”

Silence.

“I love you. See you soon.”

 

 

* * *

 

**+2 Call Peter**

**Points: 5**

 

“Hey, Peter, just called to check on the emergency Steve flew in for. He’s been really vague about it and I’m kind of worried—is it serious?”

“Hey, Mr. Barnes! Um, here’s the thing, to tell you the truth I haven’t been at work for a couple of days either because I’ve been kind of sick, but I know Wanda texted Mr. Rogers to tell him about the broken window we had in our main class. Apparently it was letting in all the bugs and it was getting pretty nasty to work in there.”

“So that’s what he flew in for? A broken window emergency?”

“I’m not too sure about that… I mean, Wanda sounded more pissed than urgent, really.”

“Right. And he hasn't mentioned his trip back before, has he?”

“Uh, I mean, he did call to say he’ll be flying back here to sort out a couple of things. So maybe… the broken window?”

“…Uh-uh. Okay. Thanks for your help, kid. And tell Steve he owes you a pay raise for uh, stellar communication.”

 

* * *

 

**-1. Pick boyfriend up at the airport and give him a birthday kiss**

**Points: 4**

 

When Steve spots him from the—tiny, almost cramped—departure area he gives Bucky an annoyed frown, but he’s too drunk on giddiness to even reciprocate the look. It takes all of Bucky’s willpower not to jump on Steve right there and then.

“I told you, there was no need to come all the way here just to pick me up,” grumbles Steve, but it’s all too easy to make him relinquish his pout for a smile. All Bucky has to do is grin unabashedly. He ducks down and presses their lips together, firm and quick. “Missed you so much.”

“Mmm. You can’t call that a proper welcoming kiss,” murmurs Bucky, pulling him down by a fistful of his shirt and giving him an open-mouthed kiss that Steve moans into, clearly taken aback.

“Nggh—wait, wait.” Bucky has to use both hands on Steve’s chest to push the man away, only to bring him back closer with fingers on his chin so their lips barely brush. “Happy birthday, big guy." He pats Steve's chest. “But you've got some explaining to do.” 

 

* * *

 

The most infuriating thing about dating Steve Rogers is that he will never let Bucky think he has the upper hand for very long. The sneaky little shit.

 

* * *

 

 

 

**-1. Celebrate his birthda—wait.**

 

“Let me get this straight,” Bucky deadpans, staring at Steve who’s currently kneeling on the ground. On _one_ knee. “You pretended to have an emergency at work to fly back home. Because you forgot the ring you wanted to propose to me with.”

They’re eating Steve’s birthday candlelit dinner on the small patio of their villa, the one Bucky had insisted on arranging because Steve never does anything nice for himself, not really anyway. The night is clear, the small hot tub overlooking the sea illuminated beautifully by the warm white light around them that’s just dim enough for Bucky to be able to see the stars in the sky above—yet here he is, looking at Steve on the ground like he’d grown a second head.

It _was_ a little weird when Steve had been adamant to get dressed up a little for dinner they’re having in private, especially when Steve’s never been one for extravagance during his birthday. He always makes his own damn _birth_ seem like no big deal, so Bucky had thought it was one of Steve’s little whims, a sudden change of heart from all the mundanity of his other birthdays.

So when Steve had pulled out the navy velvet box from his pocket and got down on one knee, the first question Bucky had blurted out was when he had time to get the ring, and Steve had probably thought it was funny to confess that he’d forgotten it back home and it was the whole reason why he had to fly back in the first place, in his signature ‘ _haha no big deal_ ’ way of handling things. Bucky was not impressed.

“I didn’t _pretend_ . There really _was_ something to sort out but… maybe I just exaggerated the urgency of the situation,” mutters Steve, more like he’s trying to convince himself than anything, if Bucky is being honest.

“A broken window—that big of an emergency, huh?” he raises an eyebrow at Steve, whose face is progressively getting redder with each word. “Couldn’t even get Peter to help you switch it out?”

If Bucky’s heart wasn’t thudding so quickly in his chest, he’d chuckle at the way Steve’s head is hanging like a guilty puppy, big blue eyes erratically scanning the room—looking anywhere but at Bucky. “Oh my god, I am never briefing him on a situation even a second later, _ever,_ I couldn’t risk telling him everything because I knew he’d tell you everything—"

This time Bucky can’t help but burst into a giggle. “It wasn’t exactly an obvious situation.” Steve grins at him sheepishly. “Did you not consider, I don’t know, just asking someone to ship it over?”

Steve gives him a withering look. “Of course I did, Buck. But no one has our house key. I wasn’t about to let them break in.”

Buy a substitute ring?

And, oh, Steve colours even more at that and if Bucky wasn't so pissed he would have kissed the pretty rosiness on his cheeks. “But then you wouldn't get to see this.” 

When Bucky slips the ring off its velvety cushion, he catches a glimpse of an engraving all along the inside. Heart thumping, he reads the cursive letters that are so fine he has to squint to make them out:

_'Til the end of the line._

“Oh my god,” Bucky says, a little dumbly, and ends up properly laughing into his hands, tears pricking the edges of his eyes. He wants to say it’s from the laughter, but they both know that was far from the truth. Not when fantasies of his future life with Steve, Steve Rogers, his long-time best friend, boyfriend, soon-to-be-fiance (in approximately two seconds, at least) and future _husband_. The word sends such a strong pang through his heart that it makes him choked up all over again. “You idiot,” he wheezes. “I am so in love with you.”

“Oh good, I really thought you were going to give me more crap for this.” Steve scratches the back of his neck. “So… is that a yes?”

“I would be the idiot if I say no. Yes, Jesus, _yes_ , _yes._ ” Bucky feels the pinprick of tears at the edge of his vision but stubbornly wipes them away because no way is he letting Steve win this. Once Steve is seated again, he points at the box placed on the side of the table. “But before I kiss you stupid, you still need to open your present."

Steve groans. “I just _proposed_ to you. Can’t my present wait?”

Bucky points stubbornly at the box. “Present. Now.”

It’s with an exaggerated show of great reluctance that Steve stretches out to pluck the small box from across the table, but once it’s in his hand he smiles widely all the same, putting it to his ear and shaking it a little. It jingles noisily. “Huh, sounds exactly like my piggybank when I was a child. Geez, Buck, you really didn’t need to get me a bunch ‘a coins.”

“You asshole,” chuckles Bucky. “Just open it.”

It’s not wrapped up very intricately, so all Steve has to do is pull the top open and slide the inner box out. He peeks inside, stares at the contents with wide eyes and takes it between his two fingers. It’s a pair of keys.

“This—what—“

“Remember that apartment we went to go see?” He rests his chin in his palm. “Well. I got it. For the both of us.”

Steve’s eyes widen even more, and his tongue seems to fail him from the shock. “No—Bucky, what—“

“I’ve been saving up for a long time for this. It’s about time we move out of a rented place,” Bucky licks his lips. “Make somewhere truly our own, you know?”

“You bought a place,” murmurs Steve. “You _bought_. A place. For me.”

“And myself, don’t forget that you greedy man,” he grins, punching Steve’s shoulder from across the table. “I know, it’s not as flashy as _a proposal_ for a birthday present _,_ but somehow it all works out, huh? New place for the newlyweds.”

“Jerk. You're crazy. This is the best birthday I’ve ever had,” Steve mumbles, seemingly half-to himself.

“I hope your other birthdays were fantastic, otherwise there wouldn’t be much to that compliment. And I'm no less crazy than you, punk.”

“It’s like we planned this all together. We make a great team. We’ll—we’ll be an awesome family.”

And that’s it—it’s like Bucky’s heart gives out and tears start to escape his eyes no matter how much he blinks. Grumbling, he tugs at Steve’s hand and says, “Ugh, come here so I can kiss you stupid."

Steve laughs and leans him to kiss him full on the mouth—and at that moment, Bucky realises that yeah, he and Steve definitely make one hell of a team.

 

**Points: 3**

 

* * *

 

**-3. Celebrate for real.**

**Points: 0**

**Holiday is fixed.**

 

“Just so you know, I’m never letting you live your proposal down.”

“Come on, Buck—“

“Everyone from your nieces and nephews to future spawns will hear of the time Steve Rogers forgot the goddamn ring on his proposal trip.”

Steve flips him on the bed and covers their mouths together, swallowing all of Bucky’s giggles until they turn into moans. “What is it going to take for me to make you forget about this mess?”

“You want me to forget the time you propose to me? No chance. I’m keeping these memories forever, thank you,” laughs Bucky, twisting in Steve’s grip to lift his hips up and brush their hard-ons together, earning a low, guttural moan from Steve’s throat. It’s like someone’s turned the heating up a few degrees higher.

“Make you pretend this never happened?” Steve tries for suave, but he’s already desperately sucking down Bucky’s neck, so his proposition turns less effective, becomes more of a plead.

“Still a nope. But I’m not opposed to you trying.”

 


End file.
